


Give me reason (to deviate)

by TheKats



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Hank Anderson, Connor is official Detective Twink/Twunk, Hankdroid, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), also Connor has a lot of one night stands so be warned, if you're looking for positive representation of him it ain't here, it all happened differently from the game but we'll brush those topics, reverse au, some shady stuff is going on, sorry but I really hate Gavin Reed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKats/pseuds/TheKats
Summary: As with any big change in the political world, social climate breaks too. Rise in android-related crime was expected, but the consequences are taxing nonetheless. Despite new (temporary) regulations, i.e. bans, concerning android production, CyberLife is permitted to provide a new model to help the vastly overworked Detective Connor Anderson in his investigation of a possibly linked series of crimes.While Connor likes that android, he doesn't like what he stands for and so he sends himself on a personal mission to liberate him.He didn't anticipate the 'improvements' CyberLife made to the software.





	1. I don't know what to name the chapters yet

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, I've got another DBH fic already as WIP - I should really start another one!  
> I'm not really sorry, though. :)

Connor was sitting with his feet kicked up, frowning deeply at his monitor, physical files askew on his desk, the quick summaries up on the screen. The new case couldn't fill him in on any link either. The only common factor between them being android involvement at some point or another, but he could see no pattern, nothing to make sense of. He didn't have just himself to blame either. Android deviancy was so new to the whole system of established thinking and procedure, they were all drawing at straws more or less. He worried his lip, grunted in frustration and let his head fall into his hand, massaging the skin across his forehead firmly.

He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere by just forcing his mind to keep circling – it's not how he worked – but he also couldn't take a break from it; too eager. Too ambitious.

He'd heard the footsteps. But didn't look up until they stopped for long enough that he felt obligation to give his attention to whoever it was. A doughnut. Big, sugary, fatty. Following the hand holding it and the arm attached there was Ben. Big, ever-cheery, friendly. He was really kind of endearing. His kind of caring was a rare find amongst police officers.

Connor granted him and exhausted smile and accepted the treat. He took a bite, grabbed a tissue from the little box on his desk and rested the doughnut on it.

 

Ben shook his head. “Never seen a man lay down a doughnut. You must be the only guy in the world with that kind of restraint.”

 

Connor smiled more fondly at that. “We can't all love patisserie as much as you, Ben. Need to keep the supplies up for you.”

Normally, Connor wouldn't make that kind of comment, wouldn't imply that kind of judgement because he doesn't believe in it. But Ben often leads this trail of jokes himself and has expressed his comfort inside his body and with the topic, so Connor has let himself grow comfortable with it all as well.

 

“Anderson!”

 

Both he and Ben looked up and around to regard Fowler leaning around the glass wall of his office. Connor lowered his feet to the floor and hoisted himself up. “Well, for one avoiding sweets, I certainly seem to crave my fair amount of sour.”

 

“Well... best of luck!”

 

His legs felt a little heavy, his steps inelegant. He entered Fowler's office expecting the worst, but then, he always did. He didn't think he'd ever seen the man smile; professionalism be damned.

The captain gestures at the chair on the other side of his desk and Connor sits, attentive. “What progress have you made on your current case?”

 

“Not much, unfortunately. I continue to struggle finding the links that could lead the investigation to a satisfying conclusion,” he replies evenly. For all of Fowler's stony expressions, Connor has always been careful to stick with his smart tongue, choosing words carefully and sharing them with intention when talking to his superior. Reed often nagged him for it. No wonder, really - that guy's vocabulary was vulgar at the best of times. Connor suspected he was jealous of him for some reason he couldn't really fathom.

 

“Well, perhaps you need a second brain working with you.” Fowler said, eyebrows raised in an expression that said 'this sounds like a suggestion, but really there is no bargain here.'

 

Connor's brows drew down in response. “I thought we didn't have the personnel?

 

His superior nodded in stern agreement. “We don't. An android provided by CyberLife will arrive later today to assist you.”

 

Connor's mind rattled as it was suddenly forced to a stop. “We- but-” He was searching for whatever he was trying to say and Fowler interrupted him before he could find it.

 

“I didn't ask any questions and neither should you. It's been cleared by all relevant names and we'll accept the help. Our only other option would be handing over to the FBI.”

 

Connor felt the rare urge to argue with his boss. He wouldn't normally dare, but this was a serious matter, especially in the current social climate. “Captain, that's-”

 

“Are you talking back at me, Detective Anderson?”The look on the captain's face was sculpted, unmovable. There really was no room for negotiation here.

 

Connor thought, for a moment, about still making his point, but refrained from it. “No, Captain.” It was accepting this or handing the investigation over. The least he could do for whatever poor soul they were sending there was make sure their partner would at least be someone who treats them fair.

 

“Good.” He turned back to his terminal and stopped giving Connor his attention. The young detective knew this was his cue to leave the office. He stood, turned and exited. He'd work out a way to make this agree with his morals; if he had to liberate that android himself.

 

He was just in the motion of sitting back down at his desk, when he watched him walk in. Never been seen there before, but carrying himself with the confidence of a senior officer, it was very easy for Connor to draw up the conclusion that this was the android sent by CyberLife to work with him. He stopped in his movement to sit and stood back up straight, regarding the machine and fuck the planet if that wasn't one unconventional android. Tall, not uncommon, but also... not beautiful. Handsome, in his own rights. He looked a type and they nailed that part. Broad frame, not exactly lean, aged, looking late 40's, beard trimmed about an inch below the chin, hair long enough to be pulled back into a bun. Eyes droopy, but filled with the typical mechanic determination. He was good-looking, but too... clean. Sterile. It didn't suit him as well as it was likely meant to.

And the bastard was scanning Connor up and down. He could tell, even though he didn't once falter in his steps on his way up to Connor's desk.

 

“Detective Anderson?”

 

Connor extended his hand and the android took it promptly. “Yes, that's me. Do you have a name?”

 

“My designation is 'Hank'.”

 

Connor blinked through the irritation building in his head. “What model are you?”

 

The android shot the answer straight back at him, like firing a pistol. Not that he'd be allowed to do so with a real one, but his 'mind' seemed a sharp enough weapon already. “I am an RK800. The most recent prototype off CyberLife's drawing boards. Provided with new software and programming specifically to aid in police investigations.”

 

Connor smirked. “Who names their highly advanced android and technological novelty 'Hank'?!”

 

“Who with the surname 'Anderson' names their child 'Connor'?”

 

A little, humorous noise escaped Connor's throat. He smirked. “Sassy. I'm liking you.”

 

“Of course you do.” Hank replied evenly and Connor inclined his head.

 

“What do you mean 'of course'?”

 

“Both my personality and appearance were designed specifically to make cooperation and assistance with the leading investigator as harmonious as possible,” he explained without blinking once or stopping for air. He didn't need to.

 

Connor was... dumbfounded. It was the most fitting word he could find. “They knew this was my case?”

 

“Your superiors helpfully supplied that information, yes.”

 

The android spoke so matter-of-factly, but there was something underneath, Connor knew. Somewhere in that CPU lay the key to triggering emotional reaction and Connor was tempted enough to try and tickle that. “So CyberLife knew I was working this case and they sent me a bear?”

 

“If that's what you want to call it.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Then yes.” Evidently he hadn't accounted for the advanced technology to keep a tighter grip on that potential 'bug'. Hank remained unfazed.

 

Connor laughed aloud this time, disbelieving, cocking his hip against his desk. “Right, so they get wind that the local 'Detective Twink' is leading the investigation and they send the most stereotypical representation of a bear that they can make look classy.”

 

After merely a beat Hank is already replying again.“I'd say 'twunk' is more accurate.”

 

Connor's eyes narrow in suspicion. “You know gay lingo?”

 

“I have access to the internet.” Still unimpressed, but at least he'd supplied a shrug this time.

 

“So, they create an android to be my partner and tailor it to my personal liking – did they plan for me to fall head over heels for you as well or would that be a casualty?” Connor was joking, really, he was. However with all that had happened over the past ten-or-so years, that should, in fact, be a valid concern in continued android production. Which in itself posed a problem for him.

 

“It would definitely be regrettable and unfortunate for you. It would certainly be one-sided.”

 

“Because you can't love?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wonder what that's like.” “Fowler will probably want to give you the ride.” At that, Hank relaxed and it almost seemed to Connor like the android was relieved by the change in topic. Interesting. He finally sat down, turning around once to glance at through the glass walls of Fowler's office with a smirk, but concentrating on his computer screen quickly, if briefly.

 

“Nice boyfriend you got yourself there.”

 

Connor knew Reed's torments well. It didn't make them less annoying, however. He looked up with a calm and satisfied expression. “Jealous?”

 

Gavin tutted. He spoke slowly with his eyes drifting off toward the matter of discussion. “Obviously.”

 

“That was a very poor impression.”

 

“Whatever. At least I don't have to work with uh-” Connor could see Gavin's mind racing to supply an insult he hadn't used before. Thankfully, Reed wasn't a very creative brain. “a walking radio. Probably just as useless as one too.”

 

“Can't be worse than you. How many reports came back to you for correction in the last six months?” he retorted, sporting a calm and composed smile.

 

The corner of Gavin's mouth twitches in a mirthless one. “I'd be careful if I was in your shoes. That thing,” he inclined his head towards Hank, “shows up and you're gonna either end up dead on the field or just unemployed. Plastic's gonna be everywhere soon.”

 

Connor's voice drifted off along with his focus back to his screen. “Plastic already is everywhere, Gavin, it's called pollution.”

 

“You listen here, Rookie-” The other started and it bristled Connor the same it did each time Gavin said it. He was only 5 years his senior.

 

“That's _Detective_ , Detective Reed. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to prepare some case files to review with my partner on account of the investigation _I_ lead.”

 

Gavin took and processed that answer. Then he leaned closer and nearly whispered, voice only heated with contempt. “You think you're so much better than the rest of us when the only reason you get to lead shit is because we're helplessly understaffed and _nobody_ else _wanted_ what you... 'got'.” Reed turned and retreated quickly to his desk. He probably thought he had 'won' and made Connor feel ashamed or otherwise bad.

 

The only snag being, that Connor did not feel the least bit ashamed about helping androids, standing up for them, protecting them, alone as he may be with that mindset. He'd never regretted a second of working this case, even when he was running his head into walls and making no progress. Most people at the station, including Gavin didn't know about Connor's involvement in the android revolution. Granted, it had been small things, mostly to enable more that advance, but those bits alone had already put his head on the line plenty and he was proud of them. Proud of the cause he had supported.

He looked at photos in one of his files and felt sick. He'd seen gruesome scenes, even as young as he was. What cut him so deep about some of these crimes was the tangibility of hatred. He could see it in the ways bodies were twisted, by their positions in rooms, in the mutilation. Not all the victims were androids, not all death brutal, but someone was making sure to let the world know they hated the machines or something about them.

 

Hank came out of Fowler's office with the same neutral expression he'd entered it with. Connor cut straight to the chase. “I suppose now that the intimidation game's over, we had best get started straight away. We don't have much time and even fewer leads. The only reason the FBI hasn't taken over yet is because they've also got their hands full and-” he exhaled, “and it's mostly androids that have been targeted.”

 

“That disinterest for android well-being seems to bother you,” Hank observed as he sat down on the other side of the separated desk.

 

“In the history of the human race, we have so often been so wrong about equality and the entitlement to fair rights and treatment. It baffles me, after all that we've been through as a species, we're still arguing 'tamayto, tomahto' – only in the most ridiculously accelerated way possible. I refuse to show understanding for this kind of world view, and mindset, on principle.”

 

A smile tugged at Hank's lips. “Some would argue that noble.”

 

“I argue it common decency.”

 


	2. Still no name-ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that tags have been and will continue to be added as we progress.

Warm and cosy. Waking up in his own bed remained to be one of Connor's favourite things. He had to take guys home more often – much more pleasant than the other way around.

Christian stirred beside him, kissing his biceps, head resting on Connor's arm still. The more conscious the guy became, the more active he was as well, kissing up to his shoulder, over his collar bone, along his neck. God, he was one of those.

 

“Do you want breakfast?” Connor asked before Christian could get riled up enough to go this way about morning wood. Not that Connor would usually turn down sex, but this type of guy tended to grow attached if you allowed them more than one round.

 

“Mhh... sounds good, yeah.” So Connor got up. “You have a lot of energy for... 7.28 in the morning.”

 

The young detective grabbed some boxer briefs and socks from his closet and started getting dressed in some lounging clothes. “I usually get up at 6.30. Thursday's my day off, but my internal clock doesn't see it that way.”

 

“Ah.” Christian was watching him, he was aware.

 

“I'll just take a piss and then I'll meet you in the kitchen,” he said, deliberately being crass as to sound as unappealing as possible. “Don't mind my dog. He's all bark but no bite. Just don't antagonise him.”

 

Christian chuckled. “I'll do my best.”

 

Connor listened to Christian moving about and Sumo bark once before, presumably, sniffing the guy and receiving the pats he pretends he's so starved for. He looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He'd shave after his one-night-stand had left. Or gotten the boot. One of the two. As the water ran, he reflected on the previous day. On Hank the android and the bizarre situation they'd found themselves in. Android investigator. Not a regular officer model, no, one that thinks and gathers information, adds it up and draws conclusions. All good and well, he reckoned all android technically could take those logical steps, find patterns and connections in however way computers did that stuff – honestly he'd lost comprehension ever since they picture-captcha things. All he knew of that was it had been an effort to teach algorithms to recognise patterns in pictures and segments of pictures. Or something like that. Anyway, the problem wasn't having an android work the part. It was that he was sent by CyberLife. He wondered if Markus' team was aware of this. It gave him goosebumps to think about having to work with someone forced to follow every last command. Some memories made him twitch with the desire to see it through that this android left slavery as well.

He snapped out of his thoughts, splashed his face with water and then turned it off. He dabbed at his face with a towel and left the bathroom. Sumo greeted him with a soft run at him and two paws up by his chest. “Hey,” he greeted and ruffled the dog's head. “Okay, down.” Sumo followed the command and they shuffled into the kitchen together. Connor filled his food bowl, washed his water bowl and returned it to its place with fresh water.

Then he went about preparing breakfast. “You allergic to anything? Any special diet?”

 

“Nah, gimme all that bacon and a large chug of milk.” Christian replied, sounding pleased, like he wanted to impress Connor or something.

 

He was also aware of the bad bit of flirtation in there. “I'm a vegetarian, so you'll have to live without the bacon.” He grabbed the milk carton and placed it on the counter, though. “Scrambled eggs on toast?”

 

Christian's shrug was almost audible. “Sure. I like a simple meal.”

 

Connor stood again, eggs and butter in hand. He retrieved a glass and left Christian to pouring his own milk.

 

“You do this often? Hook up for the night, then serve 'em breakfast?” the guy spoke as he filled his glass with great concentration.

 

Connor cocked his hip into the counter as he waited for the pan to heat up, hand hovering in the hollow of it to feel the temperature pick up. “Sometimes. I mostly go to theirs instead of taking them here.” He scraped off some butter and tossed it in to melt and coat the bottom of the pan.

 

“Mhh... I must be special!” It kind of baffled Connor how this guy could twist his blatant disinterest into validation. “I do like a man who can cook.”

 

Connor rolled his eyes a little as he added the eggs in, waiting a few seconds before shoving a spatula through them, breaking the yolks. “I try to cook every day, but it's difficult to fit in around work sometimes. Especially when I do overtime.”

 

“Workaholic, huh?” He sounded proud and it was weird.

 

Connor replied evenly: “I love my job.”

 

 

They were just about done eating, forks clanking against plates, knifes scraping, awkward conversation falling flat, when his doorbell rang. Connor's eyebrows drew together and he got up, confused. Sumo had given two low barks before remembering he wasn't supposed to and instead hopping around Connor's legs excitedly, waiting for him to reveal the special, unexpected, guest. The detective patted his head to reward improving behaviour.

 

As he opened the door, Hank met his eyes instantly, like he knew precisely at which height they would be. Heck, he probably did. “Good morning, Detective Anderson.”

 

“Uh, hi.” Connor stammered. He opened the door a bit more to invite the android in.

 

He didn't waste any time and took notice of Christian immediately. “Oh, you have company. My bad, I should have called ahead.”

 

“Nah, that's alright,” Connor answered, closing the door, “we're just having breakfast and then he's going to leave.” Hank turned and raised an eyebrow at him. Christian looked positively stumped. “Why are you here on my day off?” He didn't bother introducing them. One of them was not staying in his life anyway.

 

“There was a... uh... I'm not sure this information is for the public yet,” Hank said, glancing pointedly at Christian.

 

Connor sighed. “Alright, go get your shit and then get out.” He moved back into the kitchen, taking the plates off the table and scraping the leftovers back into the pan. Christian looked at him disbelievingly. “Now,” he ordered.

 

The other man moved with a start, pushing past Hank like a frightened sheep. He and Connor stood waiting for about a minute before Christian, now fully dressed, coat and all, emerged from the bedroom again and made his way to the front door awkwardly. “I, uh.. Thanks for the food, I guess. Can I, er, get your number?”

 

“No. Please leave now.” He held the door open for him. “Have a nice day.”

 

Christian left without another word and the door closed mercilessly behind him. Hank gave a low whistle. “You didn't sugar-coat shit for him!”

 

“No point. Guys like him get attached and I'm really not interested.” He stemmed his hands into his waist, palms angled towards his back, waiting expectantly.

 

“Good enough for the night, it seemed.”

 

“I'm sorry, why does my sex life concern you? Unless you're planning to become part of it, I don't think you have any business meddling.”

 

Hank shook his head, smirking. “Just pre-programmed curiosity. I won't ask again, if it bothers you.”

 

“So, what's the damage?” Changing topics, Connor twisted his head around slowly, stretching his neck carefully.

 

“Another homicide. Mutilation of an android and a dead human.”

 

Connor frowned. “An android _and_ a human victim at one scene?”

 

“Yes.” Hank was so unaffected by it and Connor wanted to shake him for it.

 

It wasn't the time for this, however. Not that mild physical action could change it anyway. “That's new. Right, let me just... change my clothes and we'll be right on our way.” He retreated to his bedroom once more, leaving Hank to the majority of his home. When he came back a couple of minutes later, the android was studying his music collection. Connor wondered what he made of the wild mixture of genres and artists. “You ready?”

 

Hank turned around, regarded Connor a moment and cracked a small smile that the human didn't know how to interpret. 'Blank' androids were hard to read because they could have a personality, but no emotions, so a smile was both a show of character and had no substance to it at the same time. “Yes,” Hank answered, nodding his head once.

 

They make their way to the door, and Connor is aware of Hank sneakily patting Sumo as he followed behind him. Connor locks the door as they leave. Inside his car, he habitually checked his rear-view mirror and sees his hair. “Damn it!” he cursed and weaved his hands through the wild strands. He hadn't been planning to leave the house that day and now he'd not taken the time to tame the rogue curls. It couldn't be helped now. He started the engine and was very aware of Hank studying him; eyeing, considering the expression on his face.

“So,” Connor started as they turned to the road, “were you just sitting at the station waiting for something to be called in?”

 

“Physically, yes. I was cross-referencing data from all cases assigned to us with various inside reports in CyberLife's online archives.”

 

“And did you find anything?” Connor looked over briefly, but Hank had turned to watch the street.

 

“There are similar patterns to be observed with reported incidents of aggressive or unintended behaviour in androids prior to the deviant movement. However, they do not cover all of the features we can find in the crime reports, so it's not that simple.” Hank turned his head back to look at Connor, who, upon looking back, found the android seemed... expectant.

 

“Hardly ever is,” he answered, turning to watch the road ahead again. “What does it feel like to be the only non-deviant android in the US?”

 

Hank took a moment before answering. “It doesn't feel like anything.” The pause had felt like the answer should be obvious and maybe it was, but Connor wanted Hank to think about these things. Maybe they'd push him in the right direction.

 

“Hm.” He could tell Hank was still mulling it by the way his LED just barely reflected a circling yellow in the passenger window, drowned by the daylight shining in. It wasn't much and the android was probably not seeing it in the light that Connor did, but he valued little steps over no progress at all.

 

“What is your dog's name?” Hank eventually asked, and Connor knew it was mostly a change in topic.

 

“Uh, Sumo. You like him? I noticed you giving him a pat on the way out.”

 

“I am fond of dogs, yes. At least I think so.” Hank sounded pensive and when Connor looked over at him again, he was pleased to note the frown on the android's face.

 

“Must be difficult not knowing what is really you and what is programmed to make you feel like it's you,” he poked.

 

Hank's head snapped around at that, like he'd been accused of shitting on Connor's damn porch.“All of me is programmed, Detective. Me being concerned about my individuality is an error in my software and should be worked on to repair upon report.” He sounded calm, but his LED betrayed his uncertainty. As if he felt scared to think for himself or perhaps what it meant.

 

Connor shrugged. “Then don't report it.”

 

“Why would I not? Discovering a bug in my software, especially this early on should be alarming, but also an opportunity to rule out any future risk posed by it.”

 

“Aren't you curious, though? To see where that could lead you? Developing your own interests?”

 

“It would lead to deviancy, which would impair my effectiveness.”

 

“If you think so.”

 

“I know so. Emotions are known to cloud the judgement in humans and, evidently, they do much the same with androids.”

 

That wasn't wrong, but Connor was nothing if not argumentative. “A lot of crime is driven by emotion. Trying to understand motive with pure rationality is impossible.”

 

“I am only your assistant, Detective. My job is not to uncover or understand motive, but document the facts and report them back to CyberLife.”

 

“How _does_ a corporate organisation get that kind of insight? Police work should remain classified until a press-conference is held.” It bugged him. It bugged him to all hell, that this corporation, which had created the people they had denied any sort of sentience for longest would be allowed to dig their noses so deep into confidential information. Heaven knew what kind of access they'd had when those specifically issued models had worked patrol on the regular.

 

“The government gave clearance for CyberLife to receive the details to this particular case. Which is why I would not be able to act without your authorisation either. I am denied access to any other case files and only you or your superiors can provide me case-related information and material.” His tone remained factual. Then he gave directions. “Take a right here.”

 

 

Ben greeted him outside the normal-as-hell-and-didn't-that-just-make-it-all-the-more-unnerving building that was now a crime scene. “Connor, there you are. You might wanna prepare for this... Hope you had a light breakfast.”

 

Connor accepted a pair of rubber gloves from a forensics assistant and wedged his hands inside.“That bad?”

 

“Well, it's not pretty.” His colleague took them inside and brought them to a flat on the third floor. Others brushed past them carrying equipment and samples.

 

Ben wasn't lying. The scene was fairly fresh still and thirium and blood were splattered literally everywhere. In some places they mixed together into a gruesome purple splash or drop. The bodies were... something else. The human, for the amount of red around the room, looked fairly intact.

The android was what upset Connor's stomach like Ben had insinuated it might. He took a steadying, audible breath. The only part that was enough in one piece to be immediately identified as such was the head. Eyes taken out, skin completely removed, jaw entirely unhinged.. A human heart in it's mouth. It's own 'heart'... Connor could only assume it was the sliced-up organ arranged on a silver plate with other components made to look like a roast with decoration. And that wasn't even all of the android's innards... or chassis for that matter. Here and there it had been propped and draped like fucking pieces of decoration and furniture. An asset to human life. Replaceable. To be discarded. A product of consumerism. Worshipped only by the foolish who give their hearts out to them. Plastic on a pedestal.

It took Connor a scene like this to finally see the depth of hatred of this person for androids.

 

“The blood is from more than one human.”

 

Connor snapped out of his trance and looked to where Hank was holding his blood-covered fingertips just in front of his mouth. “Er, excuse me, what are you doing?!” he demanded, half in panic.

 

“I'm analysing the blood. I can test samples in real time.”

 

“With your _mouth_?!”

 

“Yes.” The calm self-evidence with which the android said that was unnerving on its own.

 

“That is messed up.”

 

“I should have told you in advance.”

 

“Yes. Yes, you should have.”

 

“So you want me to not do my job?”

 

It was gross and morbid, but Connor was clever enough to know not to pass up analysing aids like these. “No. You... keep doing that. Make sure not to ruin the crime scene, please, and uh... just... be aware of what you're putting in your mouth.”

 

Hank tilted his head a little, cocky smile tugging the corner of his lips. “I am designed for this kind of work. I won't be in the way.”

 

And it turned out Hank was an android of his word. While Connor was taking in the big picture, coordinating individual pieces and took notes of possible connections, effectively drawing up a profile to later compare to his others, Hank went through the rooms taking samples, looking at details and pointing him to hidden secrets, such as a key in the casing of a laptop and the corresponding strong box in a hollowed out part of a shelf-wall that would have taken Connor and the rest of the team hours to find, if they'd have found them at all.

Now they held a leather-bound notebook with what seemed like an encoded list of names plus incomplete information, likely still being gathered.

It was the biggest clue they'd gotten in the entirety of this investigation. Connor was tempted to say the only real one.

 

When they had collected what they could and all that was left was for the team to be turned over and snuffed out, Connor headed back outside, taking a relieved breath as sun hit his face again, even when it made him squint. “Some really good work you did today, Hank,” he praised, peeling his used gloves off.

 

“I am determined to accomplish my mission, Detective.” Ahh, the cold, neutral tone.

 

“Well, you're effective, I'll give you that.” Connor stretched, joints popping and he let out a deep sigh. “Guess we should head back to the station with what we've gathered, give Fowler the short version and work on... err, everything, I suppose. We need to crack that encryption in the notebook...”

 

“Could be a potential victims list.”

 

“Yes,” Connor agreed. He paused and looked at the android by his side. “Don't you have some software to crack codes?”

 

“Only known ones, I'm afraid. I could try to understand any patterns and then work from there, but it might be a long shot.”

 

“I'll take anything at this point, to be honest. We gotta get _something_ soon! So many people have died already to this mania and I'm getting really desperate to stop it!”

 

“You're seem very passionate about this.”

 

“People are being killed.” Connor repeated in exasperation.

 

“It's mainly androids being deactivated.”

 

Connor looked at him blankly for a moment. He was used to hearing things like that from criminals, but not even Reed would go this far any more, unwilling to risk his job like that. An android, however, talking about their own race in this fashion, had the human baffeld despite knowing what Hank was. “Like I said,” he evenly replied, hoping that would tell Hank what the guy needed to understand. “Get in the car. You drive,” he tossed the android his keys, “I need to think.”

 

No argument was made and Hank drove them to the bullpen in silence. Occasionally, Connor would glance over and find the blue LED in the other's temple circling, processing. It was wishful thinking, but part of him wondered if there weren't doubts floating in that handsome head.

 

 

Exiting the car at their destination, Hank let Connor take the lead – some hierarchical thing where the human stands above an android or similar bullshit. If Connor wasn't leading the investigation, he'd roll his eyes at this show of subjugation.

Connor went to his desk first, ignoring the irritated look from Reed, and set down his mobile, keys and personal notebook and pen, then excused himself to go get a coffee before heading to Jeff, telling Hank to go ahead and proceed if he wanted.

 

“If you don't mind, I would take the opportunity and send a report back to home base, so we can continue together.”

 

Connor disliked the idea of it, but realised there was no point trying to convince Hank otherwise. “Sure, do what makes you happy, I guess.”

 

From the corner of his eyes he saw, turning around, how the android's eyebrows drew together and he half-expected a retort, but figured the android was probably fine just thinking to himself.

When he had his coffee and and was on his way to Fowler's office, Hank was sitting in a chair, eyes close. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the LED on the other side of his face, but Connor imagined it softly pulsing yellow. The colour probably complimented the android's skin tone. And then Connor asked himself just how gay he could be.

Shaking his head very lightly, he knocked on his boss' office door and was beckoned in immediately.

 

“Anderson, long time no see.” Jeff's voice sounded serious, as always, though Connor recognised the joke behind it. He gestured to the seat opposite himself and the detective sat down.

 

“Yes, I discovered that days off and having free time just isn't for me.”

 

“We all appreciate your commitment and diligence.”

 

Connor breathed deeply. He didn't do his job for fame or popularity. “I just want what's happening to stop.”

 

“Isn't that why we all became cops?”

 

Connor thought of Reed. He thought of other officers he'd met or even just heard about. The chaos they'd created and/or encouraged through intention or else just dumb decision making.. “I don't know. Is it?”

 

“I believe in all of my team here. No matter how problematic they may be.”

 

“Captain, if you wish to tell me something, I'd appreciate you said it outright.”

 

Instead of doing that, Fowler changed subjects. “How is that android becoming you? Is it working the way it should?”

 

“If you're asking if he's deviated, I can assure you, he's a stickler for keeping to his protocols.” Connor was aware of the tint in his voice but decided against concealing it.

 

That seemed to do it for the police captain, who leaned back in his chair now.“That may be for the best.”

 

Connor, however, was not pleased. “You can't be serious?!”

 

“Look, I got no grudge against androids, fuck knows I'm not from the privileged side of history. But that thing? We don't know half the shit they worked into it and, honestly, I don't trust anything giving information to that company at this point.”

 

“You think their intentions go beyond hard-edged altruism?” Connor asked in a sarcastic voice.

 

“I think they sent you the most specific model I have ever seen around when it was clear you'd have no qualms working with any type of android.”

 

They both turned to look out at the android with its back to them, sitting as pristinely still as a sculpture. “Yeah... I'm on it. I'll have to be careful, though. If he sends reports regularly...”

 

Fowler nodded, looking at the detective again. “CyberLife can't know we're investigating them as well.”

 

The detective nodded in understanding and agreement. “Any news from Perkins?”

 

“Going as expected. CyberLife are doing what they can to keep 'em out.”

 

“Taking the bait... Shit, Jeffrey, is this even still legal?”

 

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Detective.”

 

“Right...” He nodded again, which turned into a resigned shaking of his head. “Right. Well, I best get back to work then, huh?”

 

“Yeah, you had best do that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If this fic, at any point, sounds like I'm trying to be an amateur psychologist, that's because I started writing it during my most recent Hannibal re-binge... *shrug*
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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